The Mage and the Magpie
Page 22
“Silence!” the darkness shrieked. It seemed disturbed that she was not more afraid. “Everything you love,” he said quietly, “everything you choose to care about, I will destroy.” It smiled grimly and was gone, evaporating like smoke fanned away from a fire.
The room was silent. It seemed strangely empty. There was too much death, she thought. Dead magpies, dead Kutha, dead body of Tennebris.
Brinley put her hand to her head. There was a sound like rushing water, then wind, then the creaking of trees and the grinding of rock and the roar of fire. It was so loud! She folded her arms across her chest and held herself tight, looking around for the source of the noise.
“Where is it coming from?” she said.
“What?” Hugo asked, looking around nervously. “Is he coming back?”
It was happening, she realized, the power of the mages was coming upon her, just like her mother said. It came like a crushing weight, and her knees struck the floor painfully. Somewhere, far away, she felt Hugo put his arms around her and lower her to the floor.
It came then, the weight of the world crushing down on her—the weight of the ocean and every rock in the land. She felt the energy of the sea, the constant restless breathing of the tide—in, out, in, out, in.
She felt the hunger of fire and her stomach groaned, and she wanted to dance naked over everything and hypnotize the world.
The ancient dreams of trees filled her mind like a green cloud of leaves, choking off her own thoughts; tiny seedling gods cried out of the earth for light, straining against the crust of dust for life and height.
The cold silence of stone covered her, full of nothing and questions. What am I? I am alive but do not grow. I think but do not speak. I know but do not feel. What am I? What am I? WHAT AM I?
Birds and beasts and swimming things stampeded through her heart, leaving holes. They left scratches too, holes and scratches and a feeling of exhilaration. Sadness. Nearly all of the magpies were dead—only nineteen remained in the whole world. There was a baby seal in the sea of Urank by the sharp rock where the yellow sea dragons lived. Its mother had just been eaten by a shark and it was scared.
Its cries were washed away by the pounding of the tide—in, out, in, out, in—but the water was air, the tide wind, the shores were every living body. She filled them, emptied them again. Her body trembled against every noise, against every voice. She knew every whisper, touched every face. Her fingers were as long as the earth, her arms as wide as the sky…
“Brinley! Brinley, wake up!”
Hugo was shaking her. Animus was there, too. Behind his exhaustion was a comforting sense of strength. “I’m here, Mother,” he said. He took her hands in his. “If you return my power to me, I can help you bear the weight. Let me help you.”
She nodded. She pushed the waves and wind and rock aside in her mind, searching for the words she needed. The moment she found them, she said them.
Animus grunted and the storm inside her vanished. She closed her eyes, body trembling, mind reeling. Her heart felt bare and dry, like a fruit with all the juice squeezed out of it. The scratch on her chest was throbbing. She tried to open her eyes again but could not remember how.
Chapter Thirty-One
In which Hugo takes the chicken stairs
Brinley woke amid a field of white clouds. They were rushing by her silently, and Hugo’s arms were around her, holding her steady. She sat up. They were riding Peridot, she realized. She had survived.
“Good morning,” Hugo said brightly.
“Good morning,” Brinley smiled.
“I thought you were dead for a while there.”
“I’m not.”
“Good,” Hugo laughed nervously. “Imagine what I’d say to my father!” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry, Father. The old Magemother died. There was a new one—she died too, though. No, I didn’t do anything to save her. By the way, the essence of all evil is loose in the land.”
Brinley laughed, then stopped when she realized that almost all of that was true. She looked back at Hugo. “Oh no! What happened to your ear?”
“The Kutha,” Hugo said, reaching up to cover it. “I forgot.”
“Don’t touch it!” Brinley stopped his hand and examined his ear herself. It was a terrible thing to look at.
“How bad is it?” Hugo asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Half of it is gone, but the inside part looks okay. It’s just bleeding on the outside. It will probably be okay.”
Hugo nodded. “I’m starting to hear out of it again.”
Brinley looked at him. He had been through so much, captured by the witches, imprisoned by Tennebris, attacked by the Kutha. She had been through a lot, too. Tears filled her eyes as she recalled the events of the day in her mind.
“What is it?” Hugo asked.
“My dad,” Brinley said. “He’s gone.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“When I was with my mother, she showed me things. Anyway, I got to see my dad, and tried to bring him back with me from Ert, but…he didn’t make it. He just—” she gestured desperately, choking back tears, “he just got lost somewhere. In ‘the void.’ I don’t know what’s going to happen to him, and there’s no time to look for him now.”
“I’m sure you will find him,” Hugo said. His voice sounded odd.
“What?”
“It’s just,” Hugo gave her a careful look, “you say all those things happened to you in there. But you were only gone for a minute.”
She shrugged. “I think that light that I went through must have some effect on time.” She wanted to change the subject. She didn’t want to think about what had happened in there. “Where is Tennebris?”
“I don’t know,” Hugo looked out over the city nervously. They could just see the castle in the distance now. “He just disappeared.”
“He will be looking for a new body,” Brinley said, remembering what her mother had said.
“The king?” Hugo asked, looking sick at the thought.
“Your father?” It made sense. “Yes, maybe. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Brinley said hastily, putting a hand to her head to steady herself.
“Are you okay?” Hugo asked her, looking concerned.
“I think so,” she said.
It will return more slowly this time, a voice said in her head, startling her. Do not worry. It’s me, Animus. The Magemother can communicate over great distances with her children. She didn’t tell you?
We didn’t have time, Brinley said. What will return more slowly?
The weight, the power. I am holding most of it for you. I will help you bear it.
She told Hugo what Animus had said.
“Wow,” he said, eyes going wide. “That’s amazing! Ask him where he went. He just disappeared and told us to meet him at the castle.”
I am already in the city, the voice came again. I was worried about Belterras and Cassis. They were nearly destroyed when their power was taken. I am taking them somewhere safe. The battle has already commenced. I will meet you there.
She told Hugo what he had said.
“So you really are the Magemother?” he asked, his eyes full of wonder. “What’s it like?”
“It’s awful,” she said truthfully.
“Oh,” Hugo said, “It’s just, you know…”
“What?”
“Well,” he said, looking slightly sheepish. “It’s always sort of been my dream to become a mage, and you’ve just done it overnight…” He went silent, looking embarrassed.
Brinley felt taken aback. She hadn’t thought that anybody would want to be in her position. “How would you like to be the Mage of Fire?” she asked, holding out her hands.
He looked at them, his expression turning from shock to hunger, then to embarrassment once more. He looked down, shaking his head. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“No,” she agreed, “but we tri
ed.” She shrugged and smiled at him.
He forced a smile in return. “I guess I’ll just have to be the king, then.”
“Poor thing,” she said, trying to look very sad. “Anyway, I’m not really a mage, I’m the Magemother. I don’t think it’s the same thing.”
“No,” Hugo agreed, “it’s not.” He smiled. “You really don’t know much, do you?”
“Hey,” she said, and punched him playfully in the shoulder. It felt good to be laughing with a friend. The danger was far from over, but they were alive. They had escaped Tennebris once, and it was easier to believe that they could do it again.
Hugo grinned a little wider. “It’s nice to finally see you, by the way.”
“Oh no!” Brinley exclaimed. “You can, can’t you?” Her hands went to her hair. She had lost track of how long she had been here, but she knew she had slept on it at least twice without brushing it.
Hugo laughed. “No, no, you look fine—really good, actually.” He blushed and hurried on. “I’ve been able to see you since you came out of that light stuff.”
“That makes sense,” Brinley said slowly. “I guess that’s about when I stopped trying to hide—I mean,” she added hastily, wishing she hadn’t said that. “I didn’t need to be hidden anymore—from Lux, I mean.”
“Oh,” Hugo said. “I almost forgot! Animus said that you would need this.” He reached into his pocket and brought out the little glowing ball.
She took it, tucked it back into her shirt pocket next to her heart. She felt its warmth go through her almost at once.
“It’s warm,” Hugo said softly. “What is it?”
“Light.”
Hugo nodded. “That’s what it feels like,” he said.
They sat together in silence for a while, enjoying a moment of peace while they could. They knew that when they reached the king’s city, it would be under attack, but for now, there was nothing to do but wait.
***
When they reached the city, a battle was raging beneath them. Brinley counted ten—fifteen—no, twenty witches. A few of them rode terrible-looking creatures, while others were advancing on foot. They moved through the city streets from every direction, advancing on the castle. Archers were poised on the high castle walls, and the gate was closed. March seemed to be leading the attack. Her mount, a giant, bristling wolf, was bearing down on the castle gate. On the other side of the gate, standing with the king’s guards, was Tuck. A small group of armored gnomes stood with him.
A pale, green smoke covered most of the city, and began to billow over the castle wall. Most of the townspeople, it seemed, had taken shelter in their homes. On top of the wall, several of the soldiers began to choke and gag on the smoke. One of them toppled off the high wall and was set upon viciously by a tall, wraithlike witch with a shaved head. The other witches held their ground, waiting outside the wall. Brinley searched the scene below, trying to find the source of the smoke.
“There,” Hugo said. He must have been thinking along the same lines, for he was pointing at March. Upon closer examination, Brinley realized that the smoke was not coming from any fire, but from the witch herself. She rode the wolf proudly, slowly, one hand high in the air, brandishing a green dagger like a saber—Habis’s dagger, she realized. March must have stolen it from Habis during their fight. The smoke was issuing from the glowing blade.
“What is she doing?” Brinley exclaimed.
“Poisoning the soldiers,” Peridot snarled. “Hold on,” she said, then dove abruptly.
Brinley screamed. She wasn’t afraid for her life exactly—she trusted Peridot, but the sensation of going into a sudden dive was unnerving. When she got control of herself, she realized what they were aiming for. Peridot was descending upon March. The witch looked up at the last second and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding Peridot’s outstretched claws; the wolf she had been riding was not so lucky. Peridot landed on it with a loud crunch, while Hugo and Brinley were flattened against her back by the force of the sudden stop.
Brinley looked up, only to see the March Witch staring back at them. She was standing mere feet away, looking furious. Brinley grabbed the back of Hugo’s shirt wildly as Peridot rocketed into the air again.
“I must get you to safety,” Peridot said, her wings beating fast as they climbed. “The witch will not be taken by surprise again, and it is not a good idea for you to be in the middle of the fighting.”
“Why not?” Hugo said fiercely, a wild look in his eyes. “Just let me pick up a spear or something!”
“No,” Peridot said, banking to the left to fly over the castle, “There is no reason that the two of you should be risked in battle. Besides,” she said dipping her head to draw their attention to the scene below, “this fight will be over quickly.”
Brinley followed her gesture and saw Animus moving through the streets inside the castle wall. Archibald was right beside him, and Cannon brought up the rear.
“Look!” Hugo exclaimed. “Tennebris, and the idris!”
Brinley had noticed them too. The idris, twelve feet tall at least, was sprinting towards the rear castle wall. Riding on its shoulders, like a mantle of dark mist, was the darkness that had come out of Tennebris’s body. It reminded Brinley of a child riding on his father’s shoulders. It had been a diversion of sorts, Brinley realized. March had drawn the soldiers’ attention to the castle gate. Archers scrambled, sending a hail of arrows at the idris, but it was not enough. Several arrows missed, while others bounced off of the idris’s thick skin as he jumped onto the wall. The wall was high and sheer, and Brinley wondered how he would make it to the top, but her question was soon answered. In midair, the idris raised a pair of steel spikes, driving them hard into the face of the wall as he struck it. He then proceeded to climb, hand over hand, using the spikes like a climber’s pickaxes.
Peridot was flying lower now, observing the idris as he made his ascent. The giant reached the top of the wall and hurried across it, sending knights and archers flying over the edge in a chorus of screams.
“Come,” Peridot said restlessly, banking over the castle. “Where shall I take you?”
“To the keep,” Hugo said. “That’s where my father will be. We can help him fight.”
“No,” Peridot said. “Someplace safe. I will drop you outside the city.”
“No,” Hugo said. “There’s an old farm right below the castle. Nobody ever goes there. We’ll be safe.” He leaned out over Peridot’s neck so she could see where he was pointing. A minute later, they landed amid the sound of chickens scrambling for cover. Brinley stood on the ground with Hugo and watched as Peridot flew away toward the battle.
“You gave in to Peridot pretty quickly,” Brinley observed. “Why did you tell her to bring us here?”
“I’ll show you,” Hugo said, grinning. “Follow me.”
***
Animus stopped in front of Tuck and his warriors when he reached the inside of the castle gate, and Archibald came to a halt beside him.
“Are you ready?” Animus asked Tuck.
“Quite ready,” Tuck said, one hand tightening on the hilt of his ax. “There is one witch in particular that I need to have words with. Although,” he said as an afterthought, “I wouldn’t mind having some backup.”
Animus nodded. “You and I will handle her together. Cannon, you take the rest of the gnomes and attack the witches from the east wall. Captain Mark,” he continued, addressing the Captain of the King’s Guard, “I am going over the wall to break things up a bit. As soon as you are able, you may wish to raise the gate and come out to join me.”
The captain nodded.
“Where are Belterras and Cassis?” Archibald inquired. “Will they not come to fight?”
“They have other business to attend to,” Animus said, and he reached down to grab hold of Tuck by the shoulders.
“Wait,” Archibald protested. “I would appreciate it if you gave me a lift as well.”
“I bring you greetings from the king,” Archibald said formally. Without another word, he brought the silver ram’s head up and struck her in the shoulder. Her collarbone broke with a loud snap and she fell backward, shrieking in surprise. The hawk on her hat twitched to life and leapt at Archibald, talons reaching for his face. He twisted to the side, brought his cane around again, and the bird crumpled.
The witch was on her feet again, one hand held out before her like a sword. Archibald advanced slowly, unsure of what might happen next. After two steps, a pale-colored sword appeared out of thin air, streaking toward his left shoulder. Archibald brought the cane up to meet the sword, still advancing. The witch raised her other hand limply, her face twisting with the pain of her injured shoulder, and another sword appeared. Archibald breathed harder, retreating under the attack of the double blades. Finally, he twisted the cane sharply to bring the ram’s head against the sharp edge of the left blade. At the moment of impact, the blade shattered, and the witch gave a yelp of pain, dropping the other sword to cradle her newly injured hand.
Archibald seized the opportunity. He danced forward and hit her hard in the chest, and she tumbled backward. He waited for a second, but she didn’t move. Turning, he saw Animus fighting with five witches at once. He had separated himself from them by a wall of wind that he seemed to be trying to turn into a tornado.
The witch in the middle brandished a green dagger. She was screaming harshly in a language that even Archibald had never learned, leading the other witches in a chant, and the tornado kept coming apart before it could fully form. Archibald took a step toward them and was stopped by a burning sensation in his foot. He hopped backward, shaking his boot. It felt like he had been standing in fire. It looked like the toe of his boot had been eaten away by acid.
“You killed her,” a prickly voice hissed. “But I will not be so easy.”